Hanukkah Memories
by CNJ
Summary: When Hanukkah brings back bittersweet memories for both eleven-year-old Wesley, he understands through his tears that his mum is there for him always.


_A/N_: All right, I really am in a Crusher mood this holiday season…Beverly and Wesley have never ceased to captivate and fascinate me all these twenty-five years…so here's another story on Bev this time with her son at Hanukkah…

The usual disclaimers that none of the _STTNG_ things are mine, much as I wish dear Beverly and her darling son were…and also a disclaimer that the house exchange plot is borrowed a bit from the wonderful film _The Holiday_; that is also not my own; I just take the home exchange and the plot and make it interplanetary…enjoy!

**Hanukkah Memories**

_By_: CNJ

_PG-13_

**Wesley:**

We're up very late that first night of my eleventh Hanukkah, so I'm very sleepy by the end of the night. Even my three-year-old normally energetic cousin, Leola's nodding off, so Aunt Enid carries her up to bed.

"G'night, Mom," I mumble as I hug my mother.

She kisses and hugs me back. Our other relatives are still in the living room of our house, still playing another round of Spin the Dreidl. It's a fun game, but now I'm beat for the night. I'll be up for more rounds tomorrow.

"Goodnight, darling," Mom ruffles my brown hair, the hair I've inherited from my late father. "I'll be up shortly."

I head on up, slip on my long, loose nightshirt, then slide into bed. After six years, I still feel the gap from Dad's absence. I know Mom does also. Sometimes, I think we've moved on, but other times, the memories come back in a painful way.

I also realize that this is the first Hanukkah we've had here since Dad died…the years in between, we've either had them at either Aunt Enid's, Great-Aunt Muriel's, Great-Aunt Marie's, or at my great-grandmother's house.

Most of the time, I am glad Mom and I stayed in our house, a wonderful duplex here on Earth in upstate New York. Once in a while, we visit New York City and take in the sights there. One Thanksgiving, Mom and I, along with Great-Nana, spent the weekend there and ate at a lovely Italian place.

But now, I'm missing Dad again…he always helped make the holidays fun. He and Great-Nana and sometimes his own mother, would joke over whose latkes were the most crisp. Turning over, I try to picture Dad, but somehow, I can't.

I know he had brown hair and green eyes and was outgoing and bubbly; I know he and Mom had a very happy marriage and that Mom misses him as much as I do. But now I can't picture his face exactly. It's as if there is a blank space there.

This makes me miss him more…a pain starts again, one that I thought had gone away. The one I felt too often during the first few years after Dad's death. He was killed on a mission on the _Stargazer_. Remembering the _Stargazer_ causes me to shiver and remember how afraid I still am of that ship.

Some might think it sounds silly, being so afraid of an everyday starship, but an emotional part of me, especially back at five years old, feared the _Stargazer_. I'd been terrified when Mom went to identify Dad's body on a starbase close to that ship and had cried and pleaded for her not to go.

I remember also wondering why the others had survived, mainly their captain. He'd been at Dad's funeral. I don't really remember his name now, but I vaguely remember that he and Dad were becoming good friends.

It had been November when Dad died. I'll never forget Mom and me weeping, just weeping throughout most of the funeral. My paternal grandmother had been there and she and Mom had clung to each other and wept when the funeral started.

I'd become fearful in the months following Dad's death. To a degree, so had Mom, but Mom was always there for me, making me feel safe once again. She'd hug me when I cried and comforted me when I had nightmares, even though she was often plagued by nightmares herself.

Things are much better now, although we still feel that loss and most likely always will. I so wish Dad was here with us now. My eyes wander over to the baseball on my dresser. For some reason, tears come to my eyes at the sight.

The ball is bright in the winter moonlight. It's also blurry with through tears. Dad taught me how to play the old game of baseball one spring. Now he never will toss a ball with me again, I think.

I turn away, but not quickly enough because I start to cry for real. I silently swear to myself for being so upset now, but I can't stop my tears. They spill down my face; it's a real struggle not to start sobbing.

Oh, Dad! I wail to myself silently. I bury my face into my pillow, but it doesn't help much.

"Wes?" Mom's voice wafts into my room.

Turning over again, I try to answer her, but start sobbing.

"Oh, Wes, my darling," Mom comes over and holds me. She hugs me. I just cry into her warm, protective arms for a long while, glad she's here. Just being in her strong arms makes me feel so safe.

"It's…" I wipe my face and lean on Mom again. "B-b-been s-s-six years and I st-st-still s-sometimes…"

"I know," Mom nods, her own eyes damp. "I sometimes feel that hole in my heart also…since your father's been gone…the holidays can really bring it out."

"Mmm-hmmm…" My sobs and tears slow.

We sit there for the longest time, just being there for each other. Mom's my rock in so many ways. I'm eleven, just a few short years away from growing into manhood, yet I know my mother will always be my anchor.

We're a lot alike in many ways…we can both cry buckets of tears, we both are worriers and we both have lots of fears. Great Nana tells me that Mom was a lot like me at eleven…she's very bright and like me, earned high marks in school and was studious.

I feel myself growing calmer and feeling better in Mom's arms. We turn and gaze out at the snowy landscape. The moonlight catches the snow and adds a silvery glow to it. It's a beautiful sight, especially with all the holiday lights on in many of the houses on our street.

"Hey…" Aunt Enid peers in. "You two all right?"

"We will be," Mom tells her. She moves over a bit and lets my aunt sit beside us.

"Hey, Wes," Aunt Enid reaches over and grabs some tissues and wipes my face. She offers some to Mom, but Mom shakes her head and strokes my hair.

Somehow, my aunt doesn't need to ask…she knows how it's been with missing Dad, especially at Hanukkah.

Still sniffling, I slowly sit up. "Didn't Dad live in New York City for a while?" I ask softly.

"Yes," Mom tells me. "And in a way, that's how I met your father…we did a home exchange."

"I'll never forget knocking on your door back on Delos…I was half-drunk and really needed to pee…I knew I wouldn't be able to hold my pee until I got home…and this guy opened the door and told me that you were on Earth taking a break from your office," Enid adds.

"And I was in New York and also met Walker Keel…he was the one who told me about Jack and what he was like…I realized that he was Jack's neighbor," Mom says. "In an indirect way, he introduced Jack to me."

"That previous guy really broke your heart," my aunt recalls. "Somehow, I knew Jack was different…he was outgoing and talkative and all, but I knew he'd take better care of that sensitive heart of yours, Bev."

Mom nods. "I'm so glad I went to Earth that time…and did the exchange with Jack."

"So, Dad and you met…on Earth or back on Delos?" I ask.

"On Delos…I flew back to Delos a few days before he left for Earth," Mom tells me, stroking my hair. "It was at the New Year's Eve party when we actually met physically. We were dancing together when the New Year rolled in."

"I opened the window, leaned out, and blew that long trumpet…" Aunt Enid smiles. "It was snowing and several friends and I yelled _Happy New Year _out the window…Jack came over then and joined us hollering out the window…"

It feels nice just going over memories like this…the ache inside of me has faded now. Mom kisses and hugs me goodnight again. "Happy Hanukkah, dear…" she whispers, tucking me in. My aunt kisses me also before they leave.

I can now look at my baseball without crying this time. Dad and I had so many good times tossing the ball; he taught me how to bat and everything. The memories of his cheering me on as I ran the makeshift bases for a home run brings a weak smile to my face before I drift off to sleep.

_A/N_: Hope you all enjoyed…there are not nearly enough Beverly/Wesley mother-son fics here..and Beverly and Wesley are a wonderful mother-son pair...beautiful people, especially on the inside...just good people…too many fics focus too much on Bev's relationship with Jean Luc.

While I think those two make a great couple and I'm glad they eventually married, some people go overboard with the Beverly/Jean Luc romance.

And I do know that Beverly had other friends besides Jean Luc or Jack and actually Walker wasn't that close to either Beverly or Jean Luc; he was more Jack's friend, so I doubt Bev hung around with Walker or even Jean Luc much before Jack died.


End file.
